


Sunrise

by imitateslife



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay
Genre: Blink And You Miss It Slash, Drabble, Friendship, Light Angst, One Shot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imitateslife/pseuds/imitateslife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new day finds two old friends and adversaries changed in the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise

Nadir lived for sunrises, lived for knowing that each brought with it a new day. Each banished not only the darkness of the sky, but the darkness lingering at the frayed edges of his mind. He stood upon the balcony and watched as pink and orange glow cascaded over the white buildings up and down the Rue de Rivioli.

“You haven’t slept since I came to your home,” a musical and melancholy voice said from the doorway of the balcony. “Perhaps it is best-“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nadir snapped. It was a stale, week-old argument; one he was unwilling to have, lest it spoil his perfect sunrise. “I have always enjoyed sunrises.”

The truth was more complicated than that, but the former Daroga of Mazenederan didn’t dare untangle the knots in his heart. He didn’t want to know which feeling was true and which was false: gratitude that he lived to see another day or despair that he knew in his bones that he would soon return to watching dawn rise alone; a love for sunrises or a longing for an eternal and glorious sunset. Nadir looked skyward and waited for Erik to retreat back into the apartment. Instead he heard footsteps approach him – deliberate sound, no doubt, as Erik so often moved on silent feet – and then he felt heavier air and breaths above his left shoulder. Even after all the years and miles and anger between them, it was amazing that Erik’s presence did not unnerve Nadir. This was a man who had killed – who had nearly killed Nadir but a week ago – but whose sins he could not only forgive, but acquit.

“Do you think she enjoys the sunrise as you do, Daroga?” Erik asked.

There was only one unspoken “she” between them. Nadir inhaled sharply and shut his eyes. He imagined Christine Daae upon a hotel balcony in some foreign land. Perhaps she was Christine de Chagny now, perhaps her husband hovered at her left shoulder. The shuddering exhale shook Nadir’s body so violently that he gripped the railing for support. His eyes opened wide and were shocked by the sunlight.

He didn’t have to  _imagine_  Christine upon a balcony, waiting for daylight. He’d been doing the same thing for a number of decades. Erik had the astonishing ability to make one fall more in love with the sun than they ever thought possible.

“I wish you enjoyed the sunrise,” Nadir said instead. He twisted his hands around the wrought-iron railing. “Look at it, Erik. Today is a new day – for all of us. For  _you_ , too.’

A scoff. A breeze where Erik formerly was. Nadir tore his eyes from the lightening sky to see that Erik had moved across the balcony, if only to languidly drape himself over the rail and stare not at the sky, but at the roofline of the city.

“I see why you enjoy sunrises  _alone_ ,” he said. “I always thought you a sentimental fool, but there’s no need to be  _maudlin_.”

Nadir, usually so peaceful, so skilled at taking Erik’s criticism in stride-

“I hope Christine Daae enjoys the sunrise even  _more_ than I do,” he said venomously. “I hope she enjoys it with her  _husband_  at her side and without wondering what’s become of the man who would have stolen her every sunrise from now until eternity.”

Nadir expected Erik to lunge at him, to throttle him, to throw him off the roof. But instead, Erik stood straight and looked him in the eyes. In the brilliant sunrise, Erik’s eyes sparkled with ambers and oranges of the brightest fires. And yet there was something immeasurably sad and small about him – about his spirit – as it rose up into those eyes in the form of tears.

“I hope so, too,” he murmured. “Believe me, Nadir, I hope for nothing more now.”

 


End file.
